Dimensions Forums  
Home Register Premium Membership Health Issues Market Place Big Fashion
Old 01-22-2018, 12:14 PM   #1
Join Date: Aug 2008
Location: Germany
Posts: 56
Borghen has said some nice things
Default Chiara

~BBW, ~~WG, stuffing, eating - Unemployed graduate trains to prepare herself for an eating competition.


by Borghen

editing by Agouderia and Marlow

(This story is loosely based on a real acquaintance. As I was born and raised in Italy it may have an "old worldly" flavor. If you find any mistakes, I am the one to blame; my editors must only be thanked for their help and patience.)

It was a lazy late Winter morning. I was sprawled on the couch reading a novel and stealing glances at my roommate Chiara, seated on the armchair intently browsing a cheap magazine. Chiara and I had been sharing a small flat for the past two months and I had grown fond of her. Her central Italy accent did not bother me anymore and her cheerful demeanor provided a foil to my more serious countenance.

Standing 5’6’’ with a weight fluctuating between 130 and 140 pounds, she was by no means fat, not even chunky, but the roundness of her cheeks and a small layer of pudge around her midsection teased a potential for growth. She was kind of top heavy, with round breasts and broad shoulders, but her calves were stout and powerful enough to give her figure a certain harmony.

I had always been into fat ladies. I know they want to be called curvy, zaftig, voluptuous, soft… It doesn’t matter to me: they all have what I need, which is a good amount of lard. My “ideal weight” is usually 20 pounds higher than a girl’s ideal one. Chiara had been considerably heavier as a foreign exchange student in Spain, but had lost most of the weight after coming back to Italy. Sure, I had seen a couple of pictures and she had looked hot then, but now, stuck with a meager allowance from her parents down in The Marches, she could not afford to indulge.
My train of thoughts was interrupted.

“Nothing, yet,” she mumbled. “Too bad…”

I peered above the pages of my book. “What are you looking for?”

“A job.” She absentmindedly scratched the roll of fat peaking over her jeans. “There’s nothing here.” She pouted, her full cheeks giving her a cute expression.

“Well,” I reasoned. “You have a degree in Literature, after all. What do you expect?”

Her frown deepened. “Hostess… Promoter… Lousy, stupid jobs!”

“I think you should lower your expectations.”

She was not paying attention. “Wait! What’s this?” She read an ad more carefully. “St. John’s Day eating competition?”

I waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah… It is on June 24th, over four months from now. People stuff their faces and…” My voice drifted away, realizing this could be my opportunity to fulfill a wet dream.

“The prize is 3.000 Euros,” Chiara kept on reading. “Whoever eats the most wins…”

The fattest pig gets the award, right. “Do you feel up to the task?”

Chiara stood. “I could always try, right?” She ran a hand over her soft tummy. “No harm in that and it could be fun.”

“What makes you so sure?” I shifted my weight on the sofa and raised my eyebrows. “It sounds kind of…” I bit my lip, suppressing a smirk. “Hard.”

“Nonsense. I've always had a big appetite, after all. You remember how big I got on that exchange trip?” She patted her pudgy stomach. “That prize is exactly what I need. I already feel richer.”

And fatter. “Ok, if you really want to.” Images of Chiara stuffing her face and ending up with a bloated belly flooded my mind. Something stiffened in my pants. “If you’re that serious about this, then you should probably train.” My erection was growing, making it impossible for me to stand. “You don’t know what kind of opponents you are facing.”

“That’ll be even funnier,” she beamed. “I could start right now! I remember packing away so much comfort food during exam weeks in school. Whole meals like it was nothing... You know, I've never really tried to see how much I can eat in one sitting. Maybe it'll be the secret talent I never knew I had. ”

“Well, I just went shopping.” I gestured towards the kitchen. “You know the way.”

Chiara trotted towards the food. My eyes lingered on her broad shoulders, drifting down to her thick thighs. Where would she grow first? My money was on boobs and belly, which had already a good head start, but genetics is unpredictable more often than not.

The cupboard door slammed in the kitchen. I shook my head, took a deep breath and got up. It took me a while to adjust my jeans over my outrageous erection. I briefly considered taking a shower, a very cold one, but I opted for a long walk, instead. The microwave buzzed cheerfully as I left the flat.
Borghen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 01-26-2018, 01:41 AM   #2
Join Date: Aug 2008
Location: Germany
Posts: 56
Borghen has said some nice things

I came back two hours later, around 2 pm. I entered the apartment and went straight to the kitchen. It looked like a battlefield. Two dirty pots were in the sink, an empty pizza box was on the table. The floor was littered with paper bags and wrappers; the shelves above the sink were cleared. I cringed: this challenge was going to be expensive. Chiara was nowhere to be found.

“Anybody in?” My voice boomed. A muffled groan answered me from the living room.

No, it cannot be! It almost seemed too good to be true. Shaking with anticipation I made my way to the living room, following a trail of crumbs and empty wrappers. I took a deep breath and entered. Chiara was there, looking like a character in one of the stories I was so fond of: my friend was lying on the sofa, surrounded by the remains of a massive feast. She had an arm behind her head, the other draped across her midsection. She looked huge. The small mound of pudge that she always sported, usually almost invisible whenever she laid down, was now a massive food baby: her shirt had ridden up uncovering her navel and her belt was undone.

“Chiara…” My tongue was dry.

She turned her head towards me. “Hi, you’re back.” She grimaced. “I’ll clean up, don’t worry. Just give me some time to recover.” She patted her stuffed belly, which groaned ominously.

I cocked my head to one side. “Are you all right?” I took a step towards the sofa and knelt, mainly to hide my excitement. “How do you feel?”

“Heavy. I…” She was cut off by a huge belch. “Sorry.” She pressed her hand on her stomach. “I guess I overdid it.”

I reached out my hands and tentatively poked her just beneath the navel. Her belly was swollen and tender; it gurgled and Chiara moaned. She flapped her arm to bat my hand away, but I dodged her clumsy lunge and rested my palm on her stomach patting it.

“You look pretty full,” I smirked. “I think I should do the cleaning while you digest.” Her stomach gurgled again. My dick throbbed painfully. “Let me handle it.”

“As you wish.” She fumbled with the button of her trousers and finally undid it. Her belly swelled out further, pushing the zipper down a couple of notches. “Much better.”

I glimpsed her pink panties, pressed downward by the heavy mass of her gorged midsection. My vision blurred. With a last stroke to her huge belly, I finally stood and walked awkwardly towards the kitchen, picking up wrappers and leftovers as I made my way.

I came back to the living room an hour later, only to find Chiara fast asleep. Her pants were completely undone and her shirt was rolled up all the way beneath her sizeable boobs. Her belly, still stuffed and bloated, rose gently with every breath and there was the shadow of a smile on her round face.
Borghen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 01-30-2018, 06:47 AM   #3
Join Date: Aug 2008
Location: Germany
Posts: 56
Borghen has said some nice things

“Dinner is served,” I called from the kitchen. “Ready for a second round?”

I had cooked a nice pot of spaghetti with tomato sauce and a couple of steaks were ready as a second helping. I sincerely hoped that Chiara was up to the task, having awakened while the water was boiling.

“Spaghetti and tomato sauce?” Chiara entered the kitchen, a groggy expression on her face. She had donned a baggy sweat suit and was wearing flip flops. She sniffed the perfume and grimaced, putting a hand on her still rounded stomach. She padded to a chair and sat heavily.

I grabbed the pot and laid it on the table. “You need to train, remember? Eat up.” I sat, to conceal my second erection. God, I’m about to explode!

Chiara leaned back, spreading her legs. “I don’t know if I can eat that much.” Her hand patted her belly. “I’m still pretty full,” she admitted, lifting the hem of her shirt. Her belly was pushing the waistband down and the lace was untied.

I squirmed on my seat. “Haven’t you digested, yet?”

“Nope.” She lowered the shirt and gave the pot a dainty look. “To be honest, I’m having second thoughts about this whole affair.”

That could not be: my wet dream was about to end and I could not allow that! “Listen,” I reasoned. “You were so excited about that prize. There must be a solution.”

Chiara shrugged, put a small helping of spaghetti on her plate and took a forkful. “Maybe I’m not built for this. I guess it’s a matter of…metabolism.” She chewed and swallowed with some effort.

Metabolism, right! “Yes, that’s it!” I slammed my fist on the table. “We’ll have to work on your metabolism!”

She looked at me quizzically, a second forkful hanging in the air. “How…?”

“Don’t worry!” I leaned forward. “We’re starting tomorrow anyway.”

“Aren’t you working?”

Shit! “I’m taking the day off, just for you.”

“Thanks, but…”

“But you must do me a favor.” I raised my index. “Prove that I’m not wasting my time, that you’re serious about doing this.”

“How exactly?” She eyed the pot doubtfully.

You’re not so dumb, after all. “Finish the spaghetti.”

“It might take a while.”

It would not take long, if I had it my way. “I can wait.” I sat back and served myself a good helping; then pushed the pot towards her. “Here you go.”

Two hours later Chiara had swallowed the last forkful and looked at me with glazed eyes. Her fork fell to the bottom of the pot with a metallic ring, followed by a loud belch. Her shirt had ridden up once again and her belly was even fuller than before. She patted it with a dull sound, followed by a gurgle.

“I’m done,” she whispered. “Leave me here.”

“You’d better go to bed,” I suggested. “Sleep it off.” And turn it into lard!

Chiara shook her head. “Not sure if I can stand.”

“Nonsense.” I stood and slid behind her. “Here, let me help.”

I grabbed her by the armpits and pulled her up. I was stronger and heavier than she was but, despite that, it took some effort to get her standing. Chiara needed a few seconds to find her balance and had to arch her back; she put and arm around my shoulders and used the free hand to sustain her swollen midsection.

I slid my own arm around her thickening waistline and we slowly made our way to her bedroom. She staggered a couple of times but I held her tight; the mass of her huge belly was enough to make my head sway. We entered the room and I gently lowered her on her bed.

“Sleep well.” I caressed the bloated dome of her gut one more time. “Tomorrow we are gonna have some real fun.”
Borghen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old 02-01-2018, 01:16 AM   #4
Join Date: Aug 2008
Location: Germany
Posts: 56
Borghen has said some nice things

“Wakey, wakey!” I looked down at Chiara, still asleep on the bed. Her stomach had deflated slightly during the night, but was still rounder than usual.

Chiara opened her eyes. “What…what is happening?” Her belly rumbled and she belched. “’Scuse me.”

“We are working on your metabolism, like I said.” I reached down and patted her gut. “Put on some workout clothes and join me in the living room.”

I ignored her muffled groan and left her. The living room was also a workout area, with a bench, a set of dumbbells and an old rubber mat. I rolled the mat and put it away, then knelt to adjust the discs on the dumbbells. I figured ten pounds would be enough to start.

“What are you doing?”

I raised my head. Chiara was standing in front of me. I almost dropped the dumbbell I was handling. She had her hair pulled back in a small bun and was wearing matching tank top and workout shorts. The top squeezed her boobs giving her distinct cleavage and the shorts were tight on her thick thighs.

But what really entranced me was her midsection. Her belly, still rather full from the previous day’s double binge was hanging free, jiggling slightly. It curved outwards right beneath her sternum and sloped down into a cute muffin top, enhanced by the tight waistband; the muffin top itself circled her waist forming a pair of soft love handles.

“What are you doing and what are you looking at?”

I shook my head, realizing that I had been staring. “Nothing, nothing.” I looked down, while blushing. “I was just fixing these dumbbells for you.”

“What for?” She scratched absentmindedly her soft tummy.

I stood. “Well, you said something about improving your metabolism, right?” I gestured towards the weights. “What better way than building some muscle? You’ll be stronger and hungrier in no time!”

“Shouldn’t I go for a jog or something?” Her rueful expression made it clear that she did not think highly of the idea.

And burn some fat? No way! I shook my head. “No, not really. Cardio isn’t gonna help you that much.” I grabbed her broad shoulders. “You need some mass.” I shook her lightly and her boobs bounced.

“Ok.” She put her hands on mine. “Let’s get started.”

We began her workout with some stretching for her shoulders and upper torso. Every time she raised her arms, her breasts squashed and bounced together, trying to escape the tightness of the top; every time she twisted her torso, the layer of pudge bunched and formed cute rolls. Just wait till I get through with you and we’ll see how well you’ll bend.

I had Chiara sit on the bench and go through a basic set of presses for shoulders, arms and chest. She began sweating almost immediately and, just looking at her shiny tummy, I felt my temperature rising, too. Ten pounds proved to be too light, so I quickly upgraded her to twelve. She grunted during her second set of lifts and I gave her assistance, grabbing her arms and helping her during the last reps. Her muscles were tight, under a soft layer of fat.

I gave her some time to catch her breath and drink some water, then moved on to the lower body: performing squats and lounges she soon was dripping with sweat. I wasn’t any cooler, mesmerized by her thick thighs and bulging calves. After the last set she dropped the dumbbells and eyed the mat.

“Are we going to use that, too?”

“That? Oh, no. Absolutely no!”

“Why not?”

Because I want you round, not flat. “Because you do not need to strengthen your abs.” I tried to sound as knowledgeable as possible. “Tight abs would act like a wall, preventing you from filling your stomach while eating. You would find yourself feeling full too soon.”

She looked down at her stomach, past her boobs. “Yeah. My tummy needs some room to expand. Right?” She patted her stomach. It grumbled.

“Speaking of which,” I squealed. “Ehm!” I cleared my throat. “Speaking of which, it’s almost time for lunch.” I looked at my watch. “You’ve been working out for over one hour. Are you hungry?”
Her belly rumbled again. “Yes,” she admitted. “I could eat a horse.”

Be careful what you wish for… “Good, go take a shower,” I answered, heading for the kitchen.
Borghen is offline   Reply With Quote
Old Yesterday, 02:38 AM   #5
Join Date: Aug 2008
Location: Germany
Posts: 56
Borghen has said some nice things

Two hours later Chiara was slumped in her chair at the table, her belly massively bloated by a double helping of penne all’arrabbiata. The pasta had been very spicy (I had made sure to drop some extra pepper in it) and my friend was fanning her open mouth with a hand, while the other was busy rubbing her bulging belly. Undone belt and unbuttoned pants completed the picture.

“That was great,” she gasped. “I’m on fire. Why is there only a small bottle of water?”

“There is a reason.” I perched on the edge of the table to better look at her huge, heaving stomach. “It is all part of your training.”


I could not resist. I leaned forward and poked her tummy. It was swollen, but tender. “How are you feeling?”

Chiara groaned and rolled her eyes. “How should I feel?” She put both hands on her stomach. “Full.”

I poked her a couple more times. She yelped. “There’s still some give,” I commented. “You aren’t completely full, yet.”

“So, what should I do?”

I stood, opened the fridge and retrieved two big bottles of beer. “You’re thirsty, aren’t you?”
“Sure, but…”

“There you go!” I slammed them both on the table. “You can quench your thirst and expand your capacity at the same time: two birds with a stone.” Something else is rock hard right now.

She eyed the bottles doubtfully. “Are you sure”?

I opened the first one. “Just drink.”

She did. She drank every drop of the first with massive chugs, only taking breaks to catch her breath and belch. The second took longer and she had to pace herself with smaller sips and longer breaks. I watched her intently has her stomach swelled rounder and rounder. Halfway through the second bottle she gave up on any pretense of restraint and pulled down the waistband of her trousers, again exposing her pink panties. My heart raced faster.

Eventually both bottles were empty. She leaned back and slowly massaged her taut stomach. I rested a hand on it: it was as tight as a drum, filled to the brim with food and liquid. Chiara closed her eyes and took quick, shallow breaths, without interrupting the rub. A smile crept on her lips and she chuckled.

“What's so funny?”

“I feel tipsy, that's all,” she answered, without opening her eyes. “Lightheaded.”

And your belly is heavy. “Try sleeping it off. Tonight I’ll have another good meal planned for you.”

“Gimme a minute.”

She kept her eyes closed, humming a song and gently stroking her own gut. I took a deep breath and tried not to stare. My arousal had become painful and everything she was doing was fueling my fetish. Her breath intensified and her hands moved more languidly. I looked at her boobs: the nipples were clearly visible through the fabric. She was enjoying it as much as I was.

I reached one more time with my hand and caressed her bloated midsection. She grinned and let me do it for a while, without opening her eyes. Her belly gurgled ominously, she opened her mouth and released an earth-shattering belch. I stopped, she opened her eyes and smiled at me sheepishly, shrugging her broad shoulders.

“Sorry. Much better now. Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

“Better get to bed.” She grabbed the edge of the table and heaved herself up. “Man, the room is spinning!”

I watched her, as she was trying to keep her balance. Her belly was so swollen and heavy that the waistline of her jeans was pushed downwards and only held up by her thick thighs. The roll of fat that encircled her waistline was nowhere to be seen, now replaced by a taut sphere of tan flesh. Chiara swayed a little, then made her way towards her bedroom, arching her back like a pregnant woman.

I followed her, my mouth dry. In the hallway she stopped in front of the mirror and gaped at her reflection. She raised her shirt, posing frontally and laterally, smiling all the time. The she let go a drunken giggle, shrugged and went to her bedroom. I shook my head several times, leaning on the wall for some support, then I went to take a shower.
Borghen is offline   Reply With Quote

Thread Tools

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off

Forum Jump

Similar Threads
Thread Thread Starter Forum Replies Last Post
Sabrina (1-2) by Borghen (~BBW, Stuffing, Revenge, ~SWG) Observer Special Interests Archive 7 01-23-2009 07:09 AM

All times are GMT -7. The time now is 06:07 AM.

Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.8
Copyright ©2000 - 2018, vBulletin Solutions, Inc.
Copyright Dimensions Magazine. All rights reserved worldwide.